


Moss Lake Vignettes

by Watergirl1968



Series: Voices In The Bone [9]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Childhood, Eremin - Freeform, Eremin Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2518097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watergirl1968/pseuds/Watergirl1968
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a special summer place, where love feels sharper, brighter. Moss Lake is Armin and Eren's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Twelve

**Author's Note:**

> A series of short Eremin vignettes, beginning at age twelve.  
> Takes place in the Voices in the Bone AU.

Moss Lake was clear and cold. Fed by mountain springs, it sat in the elbow of a wide valley, ringed by stands of trees, lush and verdant and older than time. Once upon a time, the collection of wood-frame huts along the shoreline had been the province of tourists. Now, the military had laid claim to them, and Moss Lake had become a place of healing; of rest and restoration for battle-weary souls. Every person in service, from dewy green cadet through to grizzled veteran had a week-long furlough each year at Moss Lake. 

Armin had heard about the singing trees at Moss Lake; a brace of redwoods so immense that each tree was studded with wooden platforms, rising high into the air, like the flat shelf fungi that attached themselves to tree bark. Upon each of these platforms, a white, standard-issue two-person tent could be pitched, with room to spare. At night, the lanterns from each of these tents illuminated the forest, like an enchanted wood.

"Well?" the big lieutenant stood in front of them, arms crossed. "Go, on then."

The three young cadets were silent. He looked down at them, not without some pity. Starved skinny, with pointed little faces and huge, wary eyes. These three had been at Shiganshina. 

The girl stood slightly in front of the two boys. Although it was summer, she had a scarf wrapped around her neck, dark red, like bulls' blood. Her face was set in an expression of mixed patience and distrust; as though she would slit your throat, but could wait a few moons to do so. 

The taller boy had fawn skin and a mop of brown hair. He'd come from a good home; that much was evidenced by the clear, strong white teeth and bright eyes. And yet, he seemed almost feral, as though he chafed and seethed against some invisible restraint.

The little one was probably a lost cause. He was no meatier than a sparrow, dainty, with the type of features a toymaker might paint onto a doll. His eyes were cornflower blue, and did him the grave disservice of displaying his every emotion, like little tea bowls. His hair was butter yellow, too silky for a boy, and a beacon for bullies. His face was dirt-smeared, as though he'd been rooting around for something and wiped the back of his hand across his cheek and chin.

The lieutenant was somewhat taken aback when it was the smallest one who spoke: "Sir? I'm sorry…we are to go _where_ , Sir?" he chirped.

The lieutenant looked a little flummoxed. He'd assumed that all incoming cadets understood the concept of Moss Lake furlough. He unfolded his arms, gesturing around the encampment, into the trees and the hills beyond.

"I mean, _go on_. Anywhere you like. Sleep, fish, swim, find a game. Whatever takes your fancy. When you hear the bell, come back for your suppers."

The three of them looked at one another warily. The larger boy stepped away from the wall, and the others followed suit. They walked around the corner of the cabin and down the steps.

There was a moment when Armin looked at Mikasa, then at Eren. Then, he was off like a shot, racing across the camp lawn and into the forest, with his friends in hot pursuit.

Armin ran. Through dappled green light and dark shadowed hollows where mushrooms grew. Weaving through the trees, until they thinned into a grassy verge. Here, a creek meandered noncommittally. Armin ran until his face and back and chest were sheened with sweat, like warm glue. He peeled off his vest, then his shirt, setting them onto a flat rock by the creek. To this small pile Eren added his own shirt. Mikasa shook her head, refusing to part with her scarf. She tied it around her waist, like a sash. Soon, it was full of burrs.

They wandered single-file along the creek bank, until it bent to the right, revealing a hay field, penny-bright and as tall as Armin. Armin plunged into it, running again, following a plough track. He ran bumpily, the way young children sometimes do, but he was fast, and Eren had to work to keep up with him.

Eren kept his eyes on the small back in front of him, ribs like fishbones, and heard the soft whap-sound the grasses made, smacking the little sprite as he ran past. Armin eventually slowed, arms outstretched now, imperiously fanning the stalks of wheat.

They walked, finding the edge of the field. Here were trees and shrubs. The bushes were, to their delight, heavy with early strawberries. Armin picked one, cupping it in his hand, like a red jewel. 

He turned and held his hand out, offering it to Mikasa. "Here."

Eren already had two in his mouth by the time Armin had picked another. They'd burst inside his cheeks and the shock was delightful. They knelt between three of the bushes, picking berries and eating them until their fingers and faces were stained bright red, with something other than blood.

Eren watched Armin as he inspected each berry curiously before eating it. So serious. Look, this one was a double, joined together forever. Armin held it up, and for the first time since the Colossal shadow had loomed over the Wall, he smiled. A plaintive, sweet, dimpled little smile. A smile for Eren.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Thirteen

Armin liked to pretend that Moss Lake was the sea. It was the largest body of water he'd ever seen, at any rate. He'd been around rivers his entire life, but Moss Lake was different. Whereas rivers churned and rushed and gurgled, Moss Lake lapped. It lapped and licked against the rocks upon which the furloughed soldiers sunned themselves. It lapped and sloshed against the wooden pier. It lapped, long and lazy and somehow sad, up the crescent strand of beach which framed the small bay. 

The lapping quieted Armin's tangled mind. And somehow, the soft rhythm of the waves made the words written on the page he was reading sound better inside of his head. Simple words, like market. Or sourdough. Or watershed.

Armin had found his own personal treasure hoard at Moss Lake; a pile of yellowing old newspapers, Years and years worth. They smelled like mold and sometimes contained thready, balled pupae between the pages, but he loved them.

He read to Eren sometimes, by the lake. Short articles only, for Eren could barely sit still. Eren liked to wander. Not today, however. Today, most of their trainee division was lounging on the rocks at the east end of the beach. The midsummer afternoon was still, and heavy and hot. Bert and Reiner had come down to the beach, with a sack of honey melons, which they'd cut into chunks.

They were delicious; juicy and pinky-orange on the inside. The young cadets devoured them, naked limbs and faces becoming sticky with fruit juice.

Eren had had apples and plums back home in Shiganshina, but not melons like this. They grew in the mountains, Reiner said. Eren filled his cheeks, watching Armin trying to wrangle a dripping wedge of melon with one hand, without letting it drip onto his stodgy, stinky old newspaper. He failed miserably, and was soon wiping smears of melon juice and greyish ink across his torso.

"Ick."

Reiner swooped down, snatching Armin up like a lake gull on little fish. "Time for a dunk, you…" 

He suspended Armin over the edge of the rock shelf, and the smaller boy hollered and kicked.

"You're goin' in," Reiner growled, swinging Armin around again.

" _Oy,_ it's deep there," Sasha called. "None of us can swim all that well!"

Reiner tossed his squirming, sticky bundle into the lake. Armin vanished beneath the dark surface of the water.

Reiner's small eyes widened in alarm. "Balls," he snarled. "Arlert! _Arlert!"_

By the time Armin's pale head bobbed to the surface, all of his comrades were peering over the rocks, into the water. Armin looked up at them, giggling. He dove back down into the lake, his small bottom breaking the surface of the water as he did so.

"Brat!" growled Reiner, grinning.

Armin scrambled up onto the rocks, water streaming off of him. "I can swim," he announced to Reiner.

"Is that right?" 

Armin squealed as the large mountain cadet swung him up again and tossed him far out into the lake.

A few of the others joined Armin in the deep water; most stuck to the shallow shelves of rock where they could wade or sit in the water.

Reiner put Armin onto his shoulders, launching the small cadet impossibly high into the air, before he splashed into the cold depths.

"Hey," Eren eventually called to Reiner from where he sat on the rocks, "I think he's waterlogged enough."

Armin staggered back up onto the rocks. He was shivering, his small abdomen heaving, grinning ear-to-ear.

"Armin," Eren called to him, beckoning.

Eren pulled the small, icy body down onto the rocks, wrapping them both in a huge, spun brown towel. Armin wriggled around sideways, tight against Eren, shivering.

Eren chafed Armin's arms and legs with his hands.

"You feel like ice," he said. 

"Uh-huh."

"Remember the shaved ice we got at home in the winter time? With syrup on it?"

"Uh huh."

Armin's teeth chattered, and he chuckled to himself. He could swim better than any of them. And Reiner Braun had chucked him into Moss Lake a dozen times. And not to be unkind; he had wanted to be Armin's friend. Armin didn't have many of those.

Eren's arms tightened around Armin, who made a small noise, signalling contentment. 

Eren carefully tucked the blanket around Armin's small form. If Armin felt warm and snug, Eren reasoned, perhaps he'd sit still just a little longer. The afternoon was bleeding softly into evening. The lake gulls keened, flying over the pier. Eren's face glowed with sunburn. He rested his lips against the pale, damp shoulder just beneath his chin. Armin's skin was soft. For a moment he imagined that Armin was a sweet, sleek little seal. 

"My foot's bleeding," Armin said absently.

Eren leaned over to look. Armin had scraped his ankle on a rock, and a steady trickle of blood was curling beneath the arched foot. They watched the cut bleed for a few moments. 

Armin squished his foot against the smooth rock. "There," he said. "a blood print. I hope it stays there forever."

Armin and Eren. _Forever._

 


	3. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin learns a few things from his wise friend Marco, who is with Jean. So tagging this chapter for Jeanmarco as well as Eremin. Enjoy!

A splash woke Armin.  _Was it morning?_  He opened one heavy, sleepy eye to greet a sliver of orangey sky, showing through a flap in the tent. He sighed, squirming further down into his bedroll. It was July. Midsummer. Moss Lake hummed with cicadas, crickets and bullfrogs. The Lake was a deep, azure blue, dotted with rowboats and bleached-white sails. 

There were raspberries and gooseberries to eat. The Mother Tree was home to them for a week. He and Eren were allowed pitch their tent onto a tree platform, fifty feet in the air. They were finally old enough to sleep in the Mother Tree and not in the lodge with the twelve-and-thirteen-year-olds.

Armin knew all of the camp songs. He knew the  _Morning Greeting_  and the  _Moon Song_  and the sad, sad ballads the soldiers sang. He knew all the lewd tunes from the barracks and the rustic fiddle songs that Sasha had taught him.

His favourite was the  _Eventide._  It was sung when the soldiers adjourned to their tents, lit safety lamps in the trees so the campground became, for a half-hour, an enchanted forest. Someone would raise their voice in song, others would join in, until the entire Mother Tree thrummed with the mournful, itinerant song; the soldier's salute to the setting sun.

It was Armin's favourite. 

Splash again.  _This early?_

Armin managed to work both sleepy blue eyes half-open. He wriggled to the flap of his tent, opening it a crack. First light. It was exhilarating to sleep off the ground, perched in a lush green tree. With Eren. He glanced sideways. Eren hadn't stirred. He was sprawled atop his bedroll, one arm flung over his head, palm upturned. Eren was warm. Armin was still chilly.

One of the luxuries of furlough at Moss Lake was late breakfast. It was unheard of, being able to laze about in one's bedroll, reading a book, talking. Or just daydreaming.

He peeked out of the tent flap, and over the rim of the foot-span rail that edged the tent platform and prevented sleepy folk from rolling out and falling off entirely.

He smiled. His friend Marco Bodt was swimming, and having a wash. The lake was glassy calm, except for the lazy rings from Marco's dip, fanning out into the bay. Armin blinked, smiling sleepily.

Oh, Marco wasn't on his own. Jean Kirschstein was out on the rocks, too. Armin watched the older boy warily. 

Marco and Jean were older than Armin. To Armin's eye, they looked like men rather than boys. Marco was solidly built, and strong. Jean was taller, angular, with a light dusting of hair on his chest. 

Marco had reached for his towel, and was scrubbing his arms and chest with it. Jean approached him from behind. Armin scowled. It would be just like Jean Kirschstein to do something unpleasant, such as push Marco back into the water. Jean had a nasty streak; he was forever provoking others, especially Eren.

Jean touched Marco on the back. Marco straightened, turning. Jean put his arms around him.  _Oh there, that was an unexpectedly nice thing for him to do._  From his high perch, Armin could just barely distinguish Jean's features. He wore a soft, hazy expression. He said something quietly to Marco, bumping his forehead gently against the other boy's.

Armin smiled. Perhaps everyone was just a little kinder to one another at Moss Lake. Then, Jean's face got very close to Marco's, and he kissed his mouth.

Armin froze, stock-still inside of his bedroll.  _Could they see him?_  No, of course they couldn't. He should really pull his head back inside the tent now but…

Marco seemed to like being kissed, because he parted his lips and he put his arms around Jean's broad shoulders. Their bodies pressed together so tightly that the glittering swath of morning lake between their silhouettes disappeared.

Then, Jean took his hands and ran them slowly down Marco's back. Armin thought they might stop at Marco's trim waist, but the hands tenderly cupped Marco's naked bottom.

Armin felt instant heat, as though someone had shot hot turnip soup into his veins. He sucked in a breath, enthralled. Trembling, he scooched back down into his bedroll, face flaming pink as a sweet-pea.

He chanced a look at Eren. Eren had kicked off his bedroll and wore only his underwear. Eren had a thin, soft trail of dark hair which began at his navel and disappeared into his shorts. Eren had a thatch of dark hair, well,  _down there,_  too. Armin had seen it.

Armin shivered. How incredibly magnificent it would be, to kiss someone on the mouth and allow them to touch your bottom at the same time. Someone like Eren.

Armin shrank as far into his bedroll as he could manage, alone and inflamed with sweet, dirty, beautiful thoughts.

__________

Perhaps once, a long time ago, someone had used the short, rickety old dock for swimming. Now, the shoreline there, at the far western end of the bay was so choked with weeds that no one bothered with it. No one, that is, except for Marco Bodt.

Marco lay on his belly at the end of the dock, holding a chipped glass plate on the surface of the water. He'd stay there like that, sometimes for close to an hour.

Armin knew this, and waited on the beach until Marco appeared on the dock. Armin wandered around the bay, alone and as nonchalantly as he could manage, and stepped onto the dock. The mossy wood squeaked, but Marco didn't move.

Armin approached. There was room beside Marco to lay down on the slippery logs, so he did so. Marco didn't raise his head. He stared fixedly through the cracked glass plate. Armin was immediately interested.The glass plate smoothed out the surface of the water, nullifying its ripples, and Armin could clearly see rocks - small ones and a very big one, on the bottom of the lake.

He put his head very close to Marco's, curiosity getting the better of him. Oh look, there were some crayfish. And the swish of a pickerel's tail. It was fascinating, so much so that Armin nearly forgot his purpose entirely.

Finally, after a long moment, Marco whispered, "Watch. Watch her…."

As Armin peeked through the glass plate, the large rock at the end of the dock moved suddenly. A green head, nearly the size of a small dog's, appeared and looked this way and that. Slowly, the huge turtle pushed off, drifting down the bay.

Marco raised his head finally, his brown eyes dancing.

Armin smiled, then sucked his lips tightly into his mouth, leaving a thin line. "Ohhh."

"Isn't she amazing?" Marco's voice sounded like a man-voice. Armin nearly lost his nerve. 

"I come here to watch her," Marco intimated.

"Does…does Jean know?" Just saying Jean's name, after what his hands had done, made Armin blush furiously.

"Oh, no," replied Marco gravely. "Jean would want to hunt her. Turtle meat is tender. Maybe even Sasha, too. No one can know."

"You let me know. You didn't even try to hide it."

"I trust you," Marco said simply.

There. That was somehow what Armin needed. "Marco…how do you kiss?"

Marco chuckled a little. "Kiss? Another person?" He looked at Armin. He'd never seen a more serious expression in his life. "Are you sure you don't want to maybe ask Mikasa about that?"

"No," said Armin quietly. "I am pretty sure that I want to ask you about it."

Marco huffed out a breath, smiling. "Well…." he cocked his head.

"This is important," Armin informed him.

"Okay. Well…look. Come forward just a bit." Marco glanced up along the bay. Their comrades were a long way down the beach.

"Here, lean your head over the edge of the dock." Armin did. His sun-bleached hair spilled into the lake, dancing on the surface of the water. He looked at Marco patiently. Marco moved his face closer. So close that Armin could feel the gentle huff of breath against his face when Marco chuckled.

"Armin, no. Don't scrunch your face up like a raisin. Open your eyes. It doesn't hurt."

Armin opened one eye. Then the other.

Marco's tongue darted out, wetting his freckled lower lip.

"Look," he said. "A kiss is like a little present. Something you  _give_  to someone. You don't hold your breath and get it over with, as though their lips are sour milk. You need to do it slowly. Nicely. If they turn away, it might hurt your feelings, but for that one moment, you need to open your heart up. Here, like this. Don't close your eyes. Watch me."

Marco leaned forward. He stopped for a moment, and Armin could feel the warmth of his face. Then, Marco's lips touched his, moving, gently grabbing his lower lip between both of his. Armin felt a little zing pass through his body. Marco pulled back.

"See?"

Marco glanced up again. "Maybe just one more. This time, you kiss me."

__________

Mother Tree glowed. The soldiers inside of their tents, on their tree platforms, were lighting their safe lamps. The song began. Armin's favourite,  _Eventide._  He sat inside of the tent he shared with Eren, crosslegged and singing like a little songbird. 

Eren lay propped up on one elbow and watched him. This was probably the last year that Armin's voice would be high and clear and boyish. His hands and feet were getting bigger now. His Adam's apple showed against his throat. A sheen of golden down fleeced his forearms and his shins. He was beautiful.

The song faded, leaving the rustle of Mother Tree's leaves in it's wake.

"I," said Armin looking at him pointedly, "have something to give to you."

"Oh, what? A frog? Were you catching frogs with Marco?"

"N-No! I-I-I…"

Eren crawled over beside him. "What is it?"

Armin looked at him. His hands scrunched and twisted the folds of his nightshirt, in his lap. 

"I need to whisper in your ear," he said. Eren leaned close. Armin rested his cheek against Eren's, and was still.

"Hmmmn," Eren made a small sound. He had that feeling again; that tight, insistent, breathless feeling he got now, whenever he was close enough to touch Armin's bare skin.

Armin turned his face then, and placed a slow, sweet kiss onto Eren's cheek. There. He'd given Eren one tiny gift. He pulled back just a little, looking into Eren's eyes to let Eren know this was serious business. Then, he leaned in, softly tasting Eren's mouth with his own, brushing it with his lips, rasping with just the tip of his pink tongue.

Oh no. He'd upset Eren. Eren's face wasn't calm and pleased, as Marco's had been. It held an expression of fierceness, and his eyes glittered with tears.

"It's just a present," Armin said lightly, although his heart had begun to hurt awfully.

"Go to sleep," Eren said in a tight, shaky voice that Armin had never heard before. Eren couldn't have been too angry, nor too upset however; he lay down with his arms around Armin tightly, the way he used to do.

Armin sighed, feeling blue. Oh well, Marco had warned him that kissing could make a person feel very unbalanced. He drifted off to sleep, breathing in the warm, rich Eren-scent of home.

__________

He woke. Deep, blue-purple stillness. Grasses brushing against his face. No, not grasses. Eren's fingers. Brushing his face gently. He opened his eyes. The moon was out, and Eren's face was above his. Eren's perfect, lovely, man-face with it's huge, jewel eyes and mop of chestnut hair. Through the bedroll, Armin could feel Eren shaking, like his new horse, Caesar, did sometimes. Then, the most extraordinary thing happened. Eren lowered his head, and kissed Armin back.

It was not a tentative kiss; it was firm, and warm, and sensual. Armin gasped, a small sound stuck in his throat like a chicken bone. Eren's mouth left his, kissing his cheeks softly, then his small bit of a nose, then his eyelids. Eyelids. Hmmm. Armin had never even thought of kissing eyelids.

When Eren's mouth returned to his, he parted his lips, allowing Eren to lick into his mouth. He shivered deliciously, his belly fluttering as though it contained a swarm of bees.

Eren rolled slightly, and then, they were pressed together, rocking and panting, savouring the sweetness of what they had unlocked.

__________

Armin walked out onto the end of the dock. Marco lay flat, peering through his glass plate. Armin peeked, too. The enormous turtle was there, her legs fanning lazily.

"You didn't tell anyone?" Marco asked, "about the turtle?"

Armin continued looking through the glass plate. "Nope."


End file.
